


In the Cupboard

by soongtypeprincess



Series: Married Coppers [2]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gay Parents, Gay Policemen in the 1970s, Kid Fic, Light Smut, M/M, Mischief, Post-Series, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: Sam and Gene hear a noise downstairs. Is it mice, a burglar, or an awake two year-old?





	In the Cupboard

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet takes place post-series. In this little AU, Ruthie was born in 1977. She also loves Garibaldis.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN THE LIFE ON MARS CHARACTERS!!

Sam was grinned as he read his book. He felt like a kid again, propped up in bed, reading his favorite science fiction novel as if for the first time, which, this being 1979, it was the first time _anyone_ was reading this particular novel.

“You still at it?” came a grumbling beside him.

Sam looked away from his book, and smiled at Gene. “Yeah,” he said, “is the light bothering you?”

Gene only groaned as he closed his eyes. “What’s so great about that one?”

“It’s…uh, well let’s just say, it’s got potential to be a timeless masterpiece.”

“Oi, no more books in bed if you’re gonna make love to _them_ and ignore _me_ ,” Gene mumbled. “What’s this masterpiece called, then?”

“The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” Sam told him with pride. He almost gave himself goosebumps saying it; he was, after all, holding an actual first edition.

“Sounds like bollocks,” Gene huffed as he moved to lie on his belly.

Sam giggled and closed the book, setting it on his bedside table. After he turned off the lamp, he moved closer and put his arm across Gene's broad shoulders. “How could I ever ignore _you_?” he whispered as he kissed Gene’s forehead. “It’s quite impossible.”

Gene grinned as Sam continued to trace kisses along his forehead, down his temple and his earlobe.

Sam continued to press his lips against Gene’s warm skin, and he could smell his aftershave blending with his sweat. It was an unusually hot night and just the thin sheet covered their nearly naked bodies. His kisses soon turned into nibbles along Gene’s ear.

Gene opened his eyes as Sam leaned back, and although he couldn’t see his face, Gene knew that Sam was wearing his trademark smug expression when he had the horn.

“Baby’s asleep?” Sam asked.

“Sound,” Gene replied as he quickly moved from his spot and rolled Sam onto his back. Sam laughed as Gene situated himself between his thighs and lay on top of him, his own lips now nuzzling against Sam’s neck.

He stifled a moan as Gene’s lips and biting teeth sent chills through him. They hadn’t made love in weeks, being busy with work and with the routines that revolved around their two year-old daughter, Ruthie. They would try to squeeze in a quick one at the station, rendezvousing in Lost and Found, and while Sam enjoyed getting on his knees for Gene, blow-jobs would not tide them over for long.

He placed his hand in Gene’s hair, cupping the base of his scalp and running his nails across it whenever Gene would suck just the right spot on his neck. Gene moved to Sam’s lips and they kissed, ravenous, wet, and breathless. Sam moved his other hand to one of Gene’s nipples and gave it a good pinch.

Gene groaned and he lifted his head to catch his breath. He rose onto his knees and grabbed Sam’s thighs, to lift his legs. He placed them over his shoulders. “Want me to take you like this?” he growled, making Sam’s sigh again. “You like to be on your back as I give it to you. Don't you, you dirty slut?”

“Oh, God, Gene!” Sam whimpered. He grabbed at Gene’s hands that were still squeezing his thighs.

The streetlight from outside was sending a faded streak of light through the curtains and onto Sam’s features. Gene smiled. “You look bloody gorgeous with your ankles behind me head,” he purred as he released Sam’s thighs and took him by both wrists, pinning them to the mattress as he resumed his assault on Sam’s neck.

“Oh, Guv!” Sam exclaimed through gritted teeth, his calves still over Gene’s shoulders.

Sam was in utter ecstasy at the rhythmic humping Gene was performing through his boxers upon his own, but he suddenly stopped when he heard a peculiar noise. “You hear that?”

Gene didn’t listen and continued to bite Sam’s neck, but Sam pulled one of his wrists from Gene’s grasp and gently pushed him. “What?” Gene barked.

“Can’t you hear that noise?”

“Yeah, it’s your gob, now shut up and let me work!”

“Gene!”

Gene sighed and ceased his biting, propping himself on his elbows and lifting his head.

Silence, and then the soft rustling of what sounded like paper.

“Mice?” Gene whispered.

“Maybe.” The noise went from a rustling noise to a sound like metal being dropped to the floor.

Gene moved off Sam and off the bed, grabbing his dressing gown from the floor. Sam did the same. Their lovemaking would have to wait, again.

Gene produced a cricket bat from the closet.

“Where did you get that?” Sam asked.

“One of our many trips to Lost and Found,” he replied. “Thought it would come in handy.”

"I think the sound's in the kitchen.”

“Whoever it is,” Gene said, “they came to the wrong house to borrow a cup of sugar.”

He held the bat at his side as they walked through the corridor. Sam followed close behind him, stopping only when Gene stopped in front of Ruthie’s door.

“What is it?” he asked.

The door was left ajar, as it usually was since Ruthie had a habit of getting out of her bed and climbing into theirs in the middle of the night. She had all sorts of excuses, if it wasn’t a genuine nightmare that woke her up.

Gene opened Ruthie’s bedroom door and peered inside. He looked back at Sam with a smirk, loosening his grip on the cricket bat and setting it against the wall in the corridor.

Sam sighed with relief and grinned. Ruthie had done this before, thinking she was sneaky enough to have a midnight snack. Unfortunately for her, she hadn’t learned yet that sound traveled.

They descended the staircase and looked over the banister down into the kitchen. The cupboard was wide open, an empty Garibaldis tin lying on the floor. Sam tried not to giggle as he heard the faint sound of little crunching noises.

When they got to the kitchen, they found their daughter sitting cross-legged on the floor, in her red pants, munching a biscuit. The rest of the packet lay neatly in her lap as Bertram, her Bobby lion, sat next to her, an accomplice to her crime.

Bertram was a small stuffed lion that wore a Bobby’s uniform and she carried him everywhere. He was a gift from Sam at her first Christmas, and where she got the name Bertram, they were not quite sure, but they made no objections.

She didn't notice that she had been caught until the light was suddenly switched on by her papa.

She looked at them, her eyes wide, blonde hair in a frizzy mess, but all the while still eating her biscuit. Sam could see that she did not feel guilty at all for being caught. It was as if she had been waiting for them to find her; perhaps she wondered just how many biscuits she could eat before she was found out.

Gene put his hands on his hips and stood over her. “What’s all this then?” He glanced over at Bertram and clicked his tongue in pretend shame. “Gone crooked, have we?” he addressed the lion.

Ruthie continued to eat her biscuit, but couldn’t hide her smile behind it. She lifted the half-eaten treat up to him and said, with sticky jam and crumbs all over her chin, “Gah-bawldi!”

“Yeah, _my_ Garibaldi's,” Gene said. “Why are you eating them?”

“I not,” she insisted.

“Then what’s this?” Gene motioned to the empty tin. “Did you open this?”

"No..."

"Are you fibbing?"

"I not do it."

"I think you _are_ fibbing. Did you open this tin just now?"

She took another bite. “Daddy did it.”

Since Ruthie had no siblings, Sam was usually the one blamed for her misdeeds, and although Gene found it hilarious, he always came to his defense.

“Daddy did _not_ open this,” Gene pointed out, “Daddy has been in bed which is where you should be.”

“Monsters,” she stated.

“Where?” Gene asked.

“My room.”

“Oh, I see. Well, let’s put away the biscuits and go have another look because it's past your bedtime.”

“Nooo…” she whined.

“Now, girl,” Gene told her in a stern voice.

Ruthie pouted her lips and raised the biscuit to him again.

“It’s a peace offering,” Sam said with a grin.

“Come off it, Tyler,” Gene sneered. “I know a bribe when I see one.” However, he took the last half of biscuit and took a bite. “Right, we’re even,” he told her, his mouth full. “Put them away, please, you little mouse." She whined again. “Now, Ruth Anne.”

Ruthie finally stood. She put the packet back into the tin and placed the tin into the cupboard. She started to walk toward Sam, but Gene stopped her. “Close the cupboard, baby,” he said.

She turned and slowly closed it before running to Sam, who lifted her off the floor. “You’re a mess, you are,” he playfully scolded her. He took a dishtowel that was hanging from the oven door and wiped her face with it, cleaning away all of the sticky crumbs as she giggled. “A right mess!”

Gene took another bite of biscuit as he picked up Bertram from the floor. “This is going in your file, Bertie.”


End file.
